Stupid Me
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Naruto is a frequent blogger. But lately, all of his posts have been about a certain redhead, and the blond's friends are getting suspicious. But he doesn't like Gaara, okay! .:. NaruGaa AU twoshot. silly and random. rated T for Naruto's potty mouth.
1. Naruto's Blog

I never stop to consider the consequences of my actions until it is already too late to prevent them from happening. It's almost a curse, because I can't seem to help myself. When I see an opportunity to say or do something, I usually do it willy-nilly, not at all caring what can occur as a result.

It's a foolish endeavor, and yet it is an inescapable one. I can't stop myself; I _have_ to act.

And, more often than not, I pay for it. Dearly.

Just today, I made yet another mistake. How could I have been so tactless? It's almost in my nature to be that way, but must I always act like that? My actions frustrate me sometimes, all because I don't think twice about them before I do them. As soon as they enter my mind, I go with it.

But today... Today was just dumb. Plain _retarded._ I bet he hates me now. And I don't blame him.

But why me? Why did I have to bring this on myself, and involving _him_ of all people?

It hurts. It seriously hurts, a physical wound that I can't heal in a day like all of my other wounds. This isn't like a slash from falling off my motorbike, or a cut from a hard punch; this is internal, something aching and strong and impossible to ignore.

* * *

"Naruto-kun, I need you to take out the trash!" a voice hollers from below the boy's room.

"Uhg, stupid man! And right when I'm in the middle of writing, too," the blond sighs to himself. He grumpily stands, lazily lifting himself out of his desk chair. He pushes in the sliding metal shelf of his desk where his computer keyboard rests. Naruto then trudges downstairs, sticking his tongue out at Kyuubi, his adoptive father, before heading for the garbage can.

The blogger yanks out the bag, drags it outside, and does away with it. Finally, he's free to return to his room! _Damn, do I hate wasting my free time,_ he thinks to himself. _Now that I'm going to community college, I don't have it that often any more. I actually want to graduate, so I have to do my homework, and it just takes such a large chunk out of my day.…_

* * *

Anyway.

It started this morning, after breakfast. I was cheerful (I had enough money to spare to treat myself to Ichiraku's ramen for breakfast, which always gets me in a happy mood), and taking a walk around downtown before I had to go to my morning classes. My bike (motorcycle, not bicycle) was parked at the end of the street, and as I neared it, I tripped and fell (clumsy me) on top of someone.

I rarely watch where I'm going; it's somewhat of a fact. Sakura-chan and Sasuke-teme tease me about it all the time, and once or twice, it's gotten me into some pickles. But I usually find a way to worm my way out of them. I have charm, Kyuubi says. The same charm my parents possessed. Not that I knew them and can make the connection, but whatever. I believe him.

So, naturally, tripping and landing on someone comes as no surprise to me. I apologize repeatedly and remove myself hastily like I normally do.

Except… as I stand up, I figure out two things: one, that I had tripped on the untied lace of my Converse, and two, that I had run into this guy I've known since high school who happens to attend college with me.

Yup, you guessed it.

Gaara.

Now, for those of you who know me and read this blog regularly, you know how he is by now. He's this stubborn (like me), grumpy (like Sasuke), artistic (like Sai), slightly bipolar (like Sakura-chan), and quiet (like Hinata) guy that I've had a sick fascination with since sophomore year. And I'm a freshman in college now. So that's, what… four years? Ages fourteen to eighteen? Yeah. I'm pretty weird.

It's not a crush, though! I know that much. I've just been… watching him every now and then, when I see him around. And I've been listening to when he speaks to people, since he rarely does, but _when_ he does, he has some… extremely _interesting_ things to say. (And by 'interesting,' I really mean, 'bizarre.')

But it's not a crush. You guys have commented before, trying to convince me that it is one, but I assure you, it's not! My feelings for this guy are strictly platonic!

I won't name names… #crosses fingers behind back# …but some of you have tried to:

A) talk me into asking him out (cough,_Ino_,cough)

B) get me to have a "real" conversation with him (cough,_Neji,_cough)

C) confess my (nonexistent!) feelings to him (cough,_Lee_,cough)

D) make me befriend him (which is practically as impossible as searching for the Holy Grail, by-the-way) (cough,_TenTen,_cough)

E) have me flirt with him to get to know him better (cough,_Temari,_cough; and he's your BROTHER! How could you try to sell him out to someone like that? What if he's not even gay? You can't know!)

F) convince me to have him as a guest on my radio show at school (cough,_Shikamaru,_cough)

Some Internet-pals you guys are. Psh.

But, admittedly, I did mess up today. Coming full-circle back to what I originally saying at the beginning of this post, I'm in a little bit of a self-hatred mood at the moment. Any chances I had with this guy to be his friend or otherwise (NOT THAT I WOULD), it's all been blown out of the water now.

#sigh# Stupid me. I should have never opened my big, fat mouth.

See, this is what happened after I ran into the redhead:

I apologized and all that, like I said earlier, but then I proceeded to try and dust him off, since he had some dead leaves on his grey pea coat, and on his black jeans. And I proceeded to (foolishly) ruffle his hair to get out an empty gum wrapper that had been on the ground and got in it. And (stupid me!), I just _had_ to say stuff while I did so.

I ranted, "Oh Kami, Gaara, I'm so sorry! I'm such a fuckhead! Here, lemme get that for you, since – it' all my fault! – I always run into people. Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Let me see your face –" And I grabbed his cheeks in my hands and turned his head this way and that to find any scrapes. I even grabbed his shoulders and glanced down at his body, looking for scuffmarks on his arms or legs, since I know I probably weight more than him, and must have squished him. I continued, "Do you have any scratches? Bruises? Kami, I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt you, man! I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you there, you're just so short! What are you, like, 161 centimeters? 162? – Which isn't bad, but I'm 170 centimeters, so I feel a lot taller than you, haha. – Oh wait! I hope that doesn't offend you! I don't mean to, it's just…"

"How do you know my name?" he suddenly said in a really flat voice, and it threw me off-guard.

I replied with something along the ever-so-intelligent lines of, "Huh?"

"My name," he stressed, clearly irritated, although his face didn't show it. "How do you know it?"

"Uh," I stuttered, "We went to high school together. And right now we're in the same college."

He stared at me as if I had grown another head. I winced, blushed, faltered. I scratched my cheek above the topmost of three scars that adorn my cheeks (as you all know by my profile pic). I didn't like the awkward tension. He said next: "You shouldn't touch me."

"I'm sorry, you're right. I hardly know you, it was wrong of me to –"

But he cut me off. Gaara uttered lowly, almost darkly, "_No one_ should _ever_ touch me."

I was confused by this. I still am, actually. Just what did he mean by that? But before I could say anything further, he turned sharply on the heels of his Airwalks and stormed off in the direction he had originally been going before I landed on his back. I stared after him for a while, still dazed.

I swear: Worst. Moment. Ever.

* * *

Naruto clicks the "post now!" button located below the white text box. As the page is redirected to his profile, he leans back in his reclining swivel chair to admire his newest work. He initially hadn't meant to get addicted to blogging, but as it happens, he is utterly addicted.

Shutting off his monitor, the blond launches himself across the room on the rollers of his chair, using his feet against his desk as propulsion. He grins to himself, spins twice, and then kicks his feet up onto the edge of his bed. Reclining back again, he laces his hands behind his head.

Shaking his head, the teen's smile fades. It is replaced with a frown and pouting lips. "Jeez. I wonder what they're going to say this time." He sighs to himself. "Probably will insist now more than ever that I like Gaara. But that's just a misconception."

Naruto twists in his chair for a moment prior to standing and heading over to his backpack in the corner. He digs out his yearbook; he recently went back to his high school to pick it up, since they issue each yearbook the following year it's made of in order to get pictures of prom and graduation in it. It's a lame tradition, and gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Homecoming,' but that's just how things work.

The blond flips through the yearbook, not even realizing that he's searching for pictures of Gaara until he comes across one and pauses. The picture is of the redhead during their school's rendition of Bram Stoker's _Dracula._ Gaara had been Renfield last year, and what a terribly amazing Renfield did he make.

The photo looks a little odd because of the pose Gaara is caught in: hand outstretched, eyes cast upward from a hunched-over body, seeking acceptance from his 'master.' The expression on his face is haunting; it's a perfect example of pure longing. What for, Naruto doesn't know since he didn't see the play, but it haunts him nonetheless.

Not wanting to be caught staring (_By who?_ he asks himself), Naruto hastily flips the page. On the next glossy, colorful page, there lies another picture of Gaara: amidst the sea of drama club students, the boy sticks out like a sore thumb with his blood red spikes.

Naruto turns the page again. This time, it's of the school choir, and Gaara is nowhere in sight. Thank Kami.

After a few more casual flips through the chunky hardcover, Naruto slams it shut and stores it in a bin under his bed, along with the rest of his yearbooks. Idly, the blond wanders over to his Xbox and turns it on. He decided to play a round of Assassin's Creed II before going to bed. It's late, but not too late just yet, and he wants to get to the next part in the storyline.…

* * *

I think I blew it again today.

It's been a little over a week since my last post (which I know worried some of you, seeing as how you all know that I like to blog at least every other day or two), and for some reason, Fate likes to play games with me.

Yes, that means that I ran into Gaara. Again.

Only this time… _he_ ran into _me._ Which is weird, since I'm supposed to be the clumsy one.

Anyhow. As I was saying.

Fate is a cruel bitch. Seriously. Sometimes Fate is alright with me; moving from Japan to America, okay. Kyuubi landing a job at a place with awesome benefits, okay. Making friends with all of you guys on the 'Net, okay. Fine. But all this crap with Gaara? Please, Fate, let me do without it, thank you! Sheesh!

But you people… I swear. You _encourage _Fate. Last week, I had THREE of you tell me that I was, "in denial about my feelings." Psh, yeah, riiight. And you are all purple hippos with wings.

It happened during my math class (as many of you already know, I'm currently taking my general education, "intro-credit" classes). I got up to go to the bathroom. I left the classroom. I walked down the hall, and for a split second as a rounded a corner, I saw Gaara reading a book while walking (which takes talent, I'll admit). But the second wasn't long enough to get out of the way.

SO, for once, I saw where I was going, and he hadn't. And he ended up on top of me. But this time, since we weren't going in the same direction, we ended up face-to-face, stomach-to-stomach, pelvis-to-pelvis.

(And yeah, I blushed when I realized how close we were, but hey! That's not grounds for any of you to say that I like him, 'cause I don't! Really! It's just… what would you do, if your body was suddenly flush up against a stranger's? You'd blush, too, I bet.)

Gaara's book was lying somewhere on the floor, and he had his hands on either side of my head, holding up his upper body from touching mine. But he was staring directly into my eyes, aquamarine into cerulean blue. It was freaky.

The first thing he says to me is: "Not _you_ again." Just like that, too; an irritated stress on the word, 'you,' meaning specifically _me_, Naruto Uzumaki.

I twitched one eye. "I could say the same to you, bub!" I retorted. I wriggled underneath him, but his body was tense and frozen in place. For a little guy, he was _heavy._ And strong. But the heaviness was probably in his gigantic backpack, most likely full of textbooks. And he was probably only strong because he had to carry such a huge weight on his back.

I glared at the sand-colored fabric with hatred. Gaara probably wouldn't have lost his balance and fell on top of me if not for that thing. Stupid backpacks; how I curse them all, but especially his.

"Remove yourself from me," the redhead demanded sharply.

"Me?" I shrieked, still wriggling to move. "_You're_ the one who's on top of me! _You_ move!"

"I _can't,_" he ground out between clenched teeth, and he shifted slightly, but his backpack was too heavy. It must be hurting his spine, I realized. So I did what any person would do in my situation: I gripped his shoulders and rolled us over. Then, none-too-gently, I shoved myself off of him and started to walk away.

Under his breath, I heard him say, "You _touched_ me again," in a tone that made me think of someone seething where they stood, grinding their teeth and clenching their fists.

But my damn impulsiveness (as complained about in my previous entry) nagged at me to turn back and help the poor guy back on his feet. I groaned at myself, but obeyed. Soon I was back at his side, and without looking at him (I was more or less rolling my eyes at this point), I offered a hand to help him up.

At first, he didn't take it. I sense him hesitating, as if debating with himself. But in the end, he slapped my hand away, shrugged his arms out of his backpack straps, and stood by himself. A bit angrily, he grabbed the weight and his fallen book and continued on his way as if the whole thing had never happened.

Dammit, does that guy piss me off! I tried to be nice and help him, and he just slaps my hand away! What a dick! And I didn't have to help him, you know. I should have just left, since it was his fault we collided (again) in the first place! But nooo, I had to be the good guy. I had to offer my hand to him. Damn him.

(And before any of you comment with a teasing, "Aww, did Gaawa hurt wittle Naru's feelings~?" I'm going to tell you straight up that I'm not hurt or disappointed or anything. Sheer anger is all that is bubbling in my veins, thankyouverymuch.)

So. That's what happened today. Once again, stupid me thought wrong, and poor be got a rejected slap on the hand.

Fate is a sadistic, icy-hearted _bitchhh._

* * *

[Comment on this post!] [Current comment count: 6]

_Sakura  
_Haha Naruto, what did I tell ya? Didn't I say that something like this would happen again? You doubted me, but I'm telling you, there is something between Gaara and you. And it's going to show itself sooner or later. But please don't hate me for saying so; I'm just trying to be honest here.

_Ino_  
OMG. This is priceless. I laughed when I read this, I'm sorry. But it's just too funny! I don't care how many times you say it. I think you're falling for this guy, Naru. Sasuke-kun thinks so, too. He told me so. ;)

_Sasuke_  
Ino's right. I did say that. And I'm telling you, Dobe, this is only going to keep happening unless you man up and confess to somebody – to yourself, to us, to Gaara; it doesn't matter who – that you like this guy. If you don't, mark my words: karma will keep catching up to you.

_Lee_  
Yosh! I was hoping for another encounter between the two of you! This is wonderful. But ahh, I must admit it: I'm jealous that you are budding into the sweet blossom of youthful love! Please, don't be blind to it, Naruto-kun! You must embrace it for what it is! :D

_Neji_  
You idiot. You should have kissed him when he was laying on top of you. It would have made things a lot simpler for you in the long run.

_Temari_  
HAHAHAHAA. Oh, my foolish baby brother. How I wish I went to school with you two, if only to watch him mess up like that. Kankurou's no fun, but Gaara? So amusing. He acts like he isn't, since he's so serious all the time, but his angsty-teenage-seriousness is half of what makes him so amusing. XD

* * *

Naruto paces over to the quiet redhead at the end of Writing and Composition class. He's determined to clarify a few things with this guy, once and for all.

"Can I talk to you?" the blond says firmly. "Outside, in private?"

Gaara's black-ringed eyes pan over to the blond with indifference in their aqua depths. "Fine," he agrees with a grunt. He gathers up his things and follows Naruto out the door, into the courtyard nearby.

Naruto doesn't stop until he's beside his favorite cherry blossom tree. It reminds him of his childhood, back in Japan. The tree isn't blossoming because it's fall, but even it's almost-naked branches offer a level of comfort to him.

The blogger turns and faces the shorter boy. He begins, "I want to make something very clear: I don't mean to keep running into you. And I'm sorry if you don't like to be touched or whatever, but sometimes that's something that can't be helped. And another thing: I. Don't. Like. You. I'll admit that I've written about you a few times in my blog because you keep popping up in my life, but that doesn't mean I have a crush on you! 'Cause I don't, not in the least!"

Gaara blinks once or twice. Then, slowly, he says, "I know."

"Know? What do you know?" Naruto snaps.

"That you have a blog. That you've mentioned me in it." He pauses, his eyes glancing around the courtyard at its dying landscaping. "And that you don't like me."

Naruto stops dead, and stares. "Wait. Then why did you ask how I knew your name three weeks ago? If you knew about –"

"I wasn't aware of your blog or who you were until Temari showed me your webpage when she visited last," Gaara states simply. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pea coat and hunches his shoulders to warm his neck. "Now, is that all? I'm cold. I want to get to my car."

"But –!" Naruto starts, not sure how he's going to finish. He grabs the sleeve of Gaara's coat as the redhead turns to leave. "Wait. Okay? Just… wait a second."

Gaara stills his movements. "I'm waiting."

"You…" Naruto starts, frustration seeping into his voice, "I don't…!" He lets out a breath and releases his grip on Gaara's sleeve. "I don't even know what to _say_ to you. You're… an enigma to me."

Something changes in Gaara's stance. He partially turns in Naruto's direction. "I am?" he murmurs, his voice lower and softer than usual.

Naruto nods. "Yeah. I've been trying to dissect you for years, trying to understand you… but I can't. You're just this face and name and _being_ that is just out of my level of understanding. I mean, you're pretty bizarre, man," he adds with a half-hearted chuckle. "I wish I knew you better, I really do. But part of me…" and he pauses, unsure of himself. "Part of me is terrified of you."

"Why?" Gaara asks, fully facing Naruto now, his eyes peering curiously up into the blond's. "Why do I terrify you?"

"Well, it's not your height," Naruto jokes, skiming a flat hand across the air from the top of his head to just above Gaara's head. "And it's not even your voice, although your tone can get a little scary at times. It's just… I dunno, your aura. There's something about how you carry yourself that frightens me. I'm afraid of…" He drifts off, the words dying on his tongue. He doesn't want to voice his true thoughts and feelings, because he knows that Sasuke, in that bastard's last comment on Naruto's blog, is correct.

"You're afraid of my aura," Gaara repeats for clarification. "I think I know why. I push others away, and intimidate people. My siblings say so quite often." He shrugs nonchalantly. "It's self-defense, I suppose."

"But why?" Naruto wonders aloud. "What are you protecting yourself from?"

And this is a secret, because Gaara refuses to answer. Instead, he stands there, looking at the black buttons on his coat and creating silence to act as a veil between them.

Naruto clicks his tongue. "This conversation is over, isn't it?"

The redhead doesn't reply, but the way he tilts his head and glances up at Naruto, the blond takes this as confirmation that yes, it is over.

The blond exhales slowly and runs his hand through yellow strands. "Alright. Fine. But riddle me this, paprika-head: do you think we're fated to keep coming into contact with each other against our will?"

And to this, the shorter male responds with a solid, "_Yes_."

Then he walks away.

As Naruto is left standing in the shadow of the cherry blossom tree, he thinks just one thing: _This moment is _not_ going in a blog._

He walks back to his car, biting his tongue.

_Stupid me. Why did I even confront him like that? What good did it do?_


	2. Gaara's Journal

I don't understand this Uzumaki person.

He shows up at scattered intervals in my life. The hallways and lunch hours of high school. Downtown. The classrooms, hallways, and parking lots of college. Cafes. Grocery stores. Etcetera.

He is everywhere, like some sort of impossible-to-avoid disease. I wish to be rid of him, but there is nothing I can do except move away. Which, naturally, I cannot do because of my family, job, and school located here. Essentially, my whole life is _here,_ and the fact that Uzumaki happens to be here as well is merely an inconvenience for me.

A rather tiresome, annoying inconvenience.

Because despite my best efforts, I am no match for the boy's charms. He doesn't realize it, but in every move he makes, breath he takes, sound he makes, and word he says, he reels others in. There is something about me, he said, that scares him. Well, there is something about _him_ that scares _me,_ and I believe it's his natural way of charming others.

He is a strange boy. He calls me strange, but he must be blind, because he is also strange. I don't wish to be (it is the very last thing I desire, in fact), but I find myself being wooed by the blond's strangeness. His brand of strange is oddly fitting with mine, whether he realizes it or not.

For this reason, I answered 'yes' when he had asked me the other day if I thought Fate was going to keep bringing us together. For what purpose and in what manner, I don't know; I am not Fate's keeper. Although, I do know patterns when I see them. And damn it all, if there isn't a chaos-theory-type pattern to our incidental meetings.

I'm becoming extremely irritated with the Uzumaki boy, to be honest. He plagues my mind on a regular basis, ever since I fell atop of him that one day (I really ought to look where I'm going with my peripherals when I read).

I'm distrusting of my own emotions, which is why I rarely display them on my face. I'm fearful that they might betray me, as I fear they are doing now. I have my doubts (and thank Kami for those doubts), but I believe that my emotions are swaying toward the beginnings of a crush when it comes to the blond. Damn him. I don't want to be swayed, or wooed, or lured in whatsoever by him, his charms, or anything remotely _regarding_ him!

And yet, part of me knows that I already am.

And judging by his blog posts (after Temari showed one to me, I went back on the website later and read them all, backwards, from the most recent posts to all the way back to his very first post), he is already falling for me as well, but is in grave denial about it. His friends are correct, sadly.

And I have no idea as to how this occurred.

We barely know one another, for starters. We are from two completely separate worlds. The only thing I think we have in common is our shared writing talents, or what there is of them. And if 'talent' isn't the proper term, then at least 'hobby,' since the two of us do it often enough to have it constitute as a hobby. He writes in a blog, and I in a journal. Feeling expression and event recording through writing: it is, in my opinion, the correct way to go about recapping one's life.

That aside, I have made a decision concerning the tall blond: I am going to make it an effort to speak to him every so often, if only to disprove or confirm my thoughts and doubts on how I feel about him, and how _he_ feels about _me._

It will pain me to do so, but it must be done. After all, I am in no way a fan of uncertainty.

* * *

Gaara caps his pen and slips it into the mug on his desk. The mug is a favorite of his that he made in a pottery class during middle school. It is in the shape of a raccoon, with its tail curling around to form the handle, and its face on the opposite side. While a bit childish, it serves its purpose and is the best out of all of Gaara's mug creations.

The redhead closes the cover of his diary (although no one will ever hear him call it a diary, that is what it is) and locks the bolt on it. The key to it is something he hides in his underwear drawer, and the diary itself he hides in his closet. He does his own laundry, so thankfully, the little book hasn't been found by his prying older brother just yet (he would have been teased to Hell and back by now, had the brunet discovered the journal). Temari, on the other hand, has probably read it. She's clever, and secretive, so for all Gaara knows, she memorized his entire written biography. But he doesn't care, as long as she keeps her knowledge to herself and doesn't leak it to anyone (especially not Naruto, whom his most recent entries center on).

The actor (he does so miss the high school Drama Club) shuts off his desk lamp as soon as his journal and key are hidden, and then proceeds to go to bed. It's early, approximately nine thirty at night, but he's tired, and has to be up early tomorrow to go to work before his afternoon classes.

And so, with the last glimpses of an Arian classmate blurring in his mind, Gaara drifts off into sleep...

* * *

I don't know what possessed me to do this, but I've actually brought my journal to school.

It might be a mistake, I know. I could lose it. Someone could pick it up. They could break the lock, read it. I'm fully aware of the consequences. But I had to bring it today; I'm using it to record a few notes.

* * *

**Notes:**

_Observation one: Naruto Uzumaki has many friends._

_As I watch him in the dinning hall in the morning before classes, I discover that he is surrounded by more than merely his roommate. If possible, he has as many friends in the real world as he does on the Internet. I stare in what could be considered awe as I watch him converse with a group of at least a dozen people, and somehow, his motor mouth is able to keep up equal exchange between each and every one of them._

xXx

_Observation two: Naruto Uzumaki oddly has a drawn picture of me in his science notebook._

_I find this as he falls (ever the clumsy one) on his way to his next class. He's crossing the grounds of the main courtyard when he trips, landing with papers and things scattered everywhere. Being in the vicinity, I decide that I might as well help him out. He sends me a weird look when he sees me stoop down to his level to pull him to his feet and help collect his possessions._

_The odd thing is, it doesn't look like he drew it himself. It's too masterful to be his. The style is unique, a mix between realism and anime. It's doodled in red pen, but the hatching and cross-hatching that shades the drawing is flawless, as is my pose: I'm glancing over my shoulder at someone where I sit in a desk, a book in my hands. Whoever drew this is quite the artist, but aside from that, they must have a class with me in which they sit behind me._

_I don't let Naruto know that I've seen the loose-leaf paper with me on it. I casually gather the last of his papers and keep my composure as I hand them back to him. He mumbles a soft 'thank you' before standing up and scurrying away like a startled animal._

_I briefly smile to myself. He had been blushing just then._

xXx

_Observation three: Naruto Uzumaki doesn't like confrontation._

_As I extend my opinion out to him, he retreats behind his wall of denial. I have a wall of indifference that I hide behind, but this is ridiculous. I shake my head at him, and demand that he speak to me. I tell him that he should really stop making his blog posts public, because I've read them all._

* * *

"You… you!" he stutters, and I notice that he's clenching his fists against his sides. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Me?" I retort mildly. "I've done nothing."

"You've been stalking me all day! I've seen you scribbling something in a notebook! What the fuck are you doing?" he hisses, clearly furious with me.

"I don't see why you have to take this so personally," I answer calmly. "I'm just trying to figure you out, as you refuse to do with me."

He makes a face that informs me that I hit his inner feelings spot-on. He wants to figure me out as much as I want to figure out him, only he's been too timid to do so. But I am bold in the sense that I don't care what others think of me. I do as I please, within reason. Naruto does the same, only without reason, and only if it pleases others.

Naruto crosses his arms over his chest, folding his hands into the crooks of his arms. "You're… confusing," he murmurs mostly to himself. He stares at me intently, as if debating on what to do with me. He opens his mouth to say something else, but I cut him off with a raise of my hand.

"You're far worse," I assure him. "You have no pattern. I can't predict what you'll have up your sleeve next."

Oddly enough, Naruto starts laughing. He drops his arms and leans back against a nearby desk. We are the only ones left in the classroom; even the professor has gone.

"How's this? Up my sleeve, I have deceased parents and an adoptive father. I have a cat named Tsuki because of my father's bizarre sense of humor about how much I love her. And the weirdest part? I can read unreadable people and connect with them." He gives me a lopsided grin. "So there you have it. I'm all figured out for you."

"Not entirely," I murmur, but wave it aside. "If you can read unreadable people, then what can you see in me?"

"I saw earlier that you found my drawing," he replies stiffly. "You know, I don't like it when people see my drawings. I'm very self-conscious about them, since no one believes that I drew it."

I'll admit it: I'm surprised. Extremely surprised. I was one of those people, but considering who's in the drawing, I should have known that a friend of his wouldn't draw me for him; he'd draw me himself. It makes sense.

Still…

"But… why me?" I ask quietly. "Why draw me?"

Naruto brings a hand up to rub between his eyes and along his forehead. "Kami, I don't know…" he says distantly. He doesn't look me in the eye. "I guess... you makes a good model?"

He doesn't sound very sure of himself that this is the reason. And I know that it's not. I challenge, "That doesn't sound truthful. What's the real reason, Uzumaki? Why did you draw me?" I pause, my thinking expanding. "In fact, why did you write about me, either? What's so interesting about me that you have to deny?"

The blond visibly tenses. His hands ball into fists again. "Dammit, how should I know? You're just… different, that's all! You're _here_, and you're _Gaara,_ and… even though I can't even describe why right now, I like it. I like that you're here, in my town, at my high school, at my college, and…" he hesitates, but the qwords slip out before he can stop them, "…In my heart."

I stare at him, my mouth slightly agape. I can't think of what to say. He kicks a chair, and then a smile worms its way onto his lips.

"I hate it, and it frustrates me, but… it makes me happy, too," he says, and finally, _finally, _his cerulean eyes connect with mine. I feel something rush through me, flipping my stomach and lighting up my core. I blink at Naruto, and he smiles brightly at me. "Sorry. This must sound pretty dumb. I tend to do that." He chuckles nervously. "Stupid me."

"No, no…" I reply slowly, "I… like your foolishness." I do. It warms me. "You're strange yourself, you know."

He laughs again, less nervous this time. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." He glances down and around, at the floorboards. Then, he returns his gaze to me. "So… what were you writing in that book of yours, anyhow?"

"Observations," I answer lowly. I look at the diary in my palms and swing it around behind my back. "Nothing important."

"Funny," Naruto says with amusement, "I think it might be important. It might be proof."

I frown at him in confusion. "Proof of what?"

He grins, his tan face lighting up. "Proof that you like me as much as I like you."

And honestly, I'm speechless.

…So there you go, Journal. You've now learned why Naruto read you this afternoon, and why I let him, and the reason why I'm now going out on a date with him this Friday.

– Oh, did I forget to mention the date before? Sorry, it must have slipped my mind due to my excitement. Stupid me.


End file.
